Character Examinations Collection
by Autumn Ether
Summary: A series of unrelated  one-shots  and the occasional two-shot  in which a variety of characters appear. Neglected characters will be loved.  New chapters now in progress.
1. Meeting Nosurin Nortok

**Character Examinations**

1. Becoming (or _Meeting Nosurin Nortok_)

The nameless child looked incensed, and the aged doctor paused awkwardly, screwing up her grey, cadaver-like face until she resembled a twisted sheaf of bark. Why did she fear this child so much? She was just another vagrant thing, half- starved and likely without any allies to kill for her if need (or want) be, and certainly quite powerless, even against the relative weakness of Nosurin herself. Yet the insightful doctor could sense the little girl was so unlike a child, so full of sentiments foreign to even the old woman (after an impressive lifetime in the marshy south Makai), that it jarred her into a state of constant alertness, as if at any moment her own head and heart would be severed by that tiny, quaking hand across from her.

The young girl's remaining arm moved up and Nosurin tensed, but it was simply to brush away some filthy, tangled orange hair from her eyes. What the woman did not know what that the girl was truly terrified of the world she had so recently stumbled into, and that the sickly urchin masked her fear with anger. What Nosurin did see, however, was that this half- corpse, this half- girl, simmered like a pot of boiling water filled far too much, and that any added heat would push turbulent bubbles over the edge of the pot (Nosurin tried to contemplate this in literal terms, but wisely decided against it).

The girl's hard mouth broke into a subtle sneer. "You've got to be joking. How am I supposed to get the money for cybernetic limbs?" She did have a point. What possibly could be done to earn money, considering the state the girl was in? From what Nosurin understood, the child was fairly intelligent, but without the use of her limbs, that would do very little for her in the end. Nosurin had so little money that the best she could do was feed the child and offer her what little warmth she could. But that hospitality could only last for a time.

"Do you..." Nosurin bit her plump, grey bottom lip. "…Have any talents in particular- anything non- physical that could earn you money?" It was a rather useless, foolish question, but Nosurin would have felt worse if she did not suggest anything.

Surprisingly, the little girl looked decidedly forlorn at the question. She sighed quietly and stared out of the window next to her bed. Her round little head remained fixed there for some moments before she replied, "My only talent is gone now." She opened her mouth, as if she longed to continue, but a sudden, a hard look came over her face, and she looked away, shutters suddenly slammed shut.

Nauseated, the doctor attempted another idea, but it came out stuttered and incomprehensible. Swallowing thickly, she managed an articulate "errr"; years of experience filled the short, rotund demon doctor's mind with gruesome and unpleasant images. She could tell from this young lady's uninjured half that she had been very pretty before her accident, whatever it was, and whatever caused it. She was still pretty to Nosurin, but in a more spiritual sense; intuitively, she knew the injuries held a brutal and self- metamorphosing truth behind them- her mind itched to know what that truth could be, but she knew her place and did not ask.

"Why are you looking at me that way?" Now the corpse- child's left face quirked in confusion so genuine that Nosurin's jaw nearly dropped. This girl could not understand another's empathy for her. Any inherent gentleness within the child must have been consumed by a shadow, opposite self- a sort of armour or business suit that never came off - she did what she needed to to survive in a world that honestly could not give a damn about her or anyone else.

Still that dark blue eye remained locked on her, and Nosurin felt like weeping, but refused to for the sake of her own dignity.

A horrid, pinched little smile wrenched across the redhead's face as she said, "I need a name, too; something I'll like, something to be proud of. Help me out, would you?"

Nosurin simply stared at her blankly.

"No name for me, then," she concluded gruffly, and turned to face the window. "It's just as well. I don't need one anyway."


	2. What Must be Done, Part I

2. What Must Be Done (Part I)

Slow realization began to dawn on a fogged mind, a consciousness crawling hesitantly out from its comfortable hovel, waking to the harshness of full sunlight.

His head felt strange: floating, like it wasn't attached to his body, and his physical form, to him, felt entirely unreal. A sluggish thought reminded him that he'd forgotten to eat for days. Dizzily, he stood, frowning with the effort, and grabbed at the inside of his current room for support (if one could call it that, as his current room was a hollowed- out tree, and the support it offered was minimal, only physical). Still, the hard pulp of otherworldly bark which closed around him, like a door, offered some comfort (as it had last night, slowly closing him off from the world, it now receded in the morning, changing fibers creating an odd, organic sort of music, faintly percussive).

Sighing, he stumbled out into an unusually bright world of snow. Piercingly light eyes scanned and squinted as frozen reflections cut into them like so many knives. The frigid, cold smell smothered his senses, was overwhelming. Winter was not its usual, refreshing self as in the human world here, but oppressive, filled with ends of everything- very few things grew here.

Blowing snow hit his face- the only part of him not covered with furs - uncomfortably. Furs. He was wearing _furs_. Out of place, but a thread stitched firmly through sanity's elusive trail, humour settled down beside his many other warring emotions.

Just like he had the past five days, he gathered his knapsack and filled it with his meager possessions (a solar-powered tea- kettle, a thin blanket, a towel, soap and sleeping clothes) and prepared to walk for yet another day. Today, though, he did eat; as he walked, he chewed on a nutrient- rich piece of root.

On and on, he traveled. Before long, the sun had begun to set; a mere shimmering egg in the midst of perpetual blizzard.

Instead of finding closed shelter, as he usually did, exhausted though he was, he sat in the cold for a few minutes within a grove of barren trees, before rising and continuing onward to the enormous mass ahead.

Finally, he had reached his end point.

Cut into the side of a snow-covered mountain was a door.

The door was made of ice and stone. He knocked on it emphatically.

An elongated, oval shaped peephole appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and though the interior was too dark to see anything but uniform blackness, he knew that two exceptionally cruel white- blue eyes were scrutinizing his presence. He had learned that their eyes were all the same from a very reputable source; the eyes of the one that watched him were a clone of all the others'.

Willfully unintimidated, he called 'hello' up to the narrow opening.

First, he was met with silence. The silence was rude and contemptuous, and made him annoyed. Then a sharp bark of 'go away' smacked his eardrums. He grimaced, then glared, for despite having expected this reaction, it was another thing entirely to experience it himself.

Stubbornly, he locked eyes with whoever guarded the mountain stronghold. "I wish to speak with your elders," he yelled above the storm. "It is of utmost importance. One of yours, a good friend of mine, is near death. Please, open the door."

"Prove your statement," the quill- covered voice demanded. "What is her name? Moreover, what is yours? Where is it that you come from?"

He supplied her with both his demon and human names. And he gave them his friend's name afterwards.

"Ha! Ha!" she laughed acerbically. "If you are who you_ say_ you are, why would we ever trust _you_? And if you are lying and taking on his title to seem important, you are _equally_ untrustworthy." Then, as an afterthought, "We never knew of a Yukina." She paused slightly, as if gathering her wits about her. "Go, _man_. Go back to the rotten place you came from, and never return. I will never let you in."

He stood his ground. "Do you need proof? I shall show you proof." Offering a thin smirk, he took a few steps backward. "I'm sure it will be more than enough."

It was a foolish idea, to access his Energy with so little strength, but he had no other choice. The grove of barren trees behind him looked so forlorn that he decided to use them to make his point.

A startled lull, much different than before, was their response, but he did not get his hopes up. Then, abruptly, his sensitive ears caught pieces of hushed whispers eddying out of the small opening.

"-could really be-"

"...sure?"

"-proves nothing, anyway. There are other-"

"-of use to us? Think of our healers. They could conserve Energy if-"

So they were considering- it was better than nothing.


	3. What Must Be Done, Part II

Notes: I appreciate the feedback, SPS-kun. My fiction writing style is still developing, but it's good to know I'm on the right track. This is a bit of a guilty pleasure of mine, but a good writing exercise nonetheless, and it is wonderful to write such an interesting and varied cast of characters with very little pressure (as well as quite a respite from multiple literary essays…)

- Autumn

What Must Be Done, Pt. 2

Shuichi, as he'd taken to calling himself more permanently, waited, with some apprehension, surrounded now by blossoming and fruit- bearing trees. The muted whites and blues of the landscape seemed almost to take offense to the brilliant colours of life—the cream- yellows, plums, pinks and oranges strangely anachronistic to the rest of the world, like an Eden within an ice age. The whispering behind that massive door before him had long since become less frequent, and recently had even ceased all together. _Are they still considering? _He thought wearily, numb- limbed and pacing in the cold, weighing alternate responses and corresponding plans of action, waiting, waiting impatiently now as the minutes and hours melded, stumbled and dragged, _Or have they decided to ignore me?_

Finally, as the white air about the stronghold began to darken to a cool grey, a great, groaning noise swept about him, and he held his breath slightly in hope as a dark line appeared between the mountain itself and the door that occupied it. Picking up speed, the door was finally fully open, and slowly, out of a bleak and obscure entranceway, three wizened women, each dressed in identical robes of matriarchal chiefdom and each nearly indistinguishable from the other, emerged. They, like the landscape, were all shades of white and whitish blue.

He had since covered his face with a scarf, so all that remained visible were his eyes, and they were covered in shadow. He supposed it made him look threatening, but by this point he no longer cared.

The three ice apparitions stared at him disgustedly, as if he were some germ on a microscope slide, but the bacterium in the slide was dead, preserved, and could no longer spread. They could sense he was of no threat to them.

"Come," one ordered in a metallic voice, lacking any emotion.

He followed them through the entranceway, which was rather excessively large given its occupants. Expectantly, he waited for a wash of warmth to thaw him, but soon was unpleasantly reminded of where he was. It was only slightly less chilly inside than out.

As it turned out, this gateway was the entrance to their village. Through the stronghold's back door they went, and into the open air once more. The blowing snow had let up somewhat, so as he passed he could clearly see each residence—clean, small, and of course, identical—and the harsh cleanliness, the hard, white uniformity, reminded him of hospital corridors and medicinal smells. It was all too familiar.

Thousands of unsettling and unsettled eyes peered out at him through windows or from various final activities outside; quite a few doors shutting, windows slamming and locks turning, which echoed with the same metallic quality of the one elder's voice that had first spoken to him. Immersed in monochrome, he thought of the colours of the now- living trees, and his own adornment in light brown, pine green and gold, and how all the myriad colours he either created or wore opposed this place in perfect metaphor.

They led him to the only unique structure in their village: a large conference building. A small fire-pit sat in the center of the room, but even the flames seemed overcome but their oppressive miasma, and burned dark orange, on the verge of suffocation. Faintly, he wondered why they even had a fire-pit, much less a fire burning, at all.

"Sit."

He sat.

At least the floor was covered in thick rugs, so the chill in him would reduce somewhat. He removed his hood and scarf, only out of grudging respect to help his plan along. Everything required that he be docile, unusually polite, deferring to them, so as to appear like one of their subordinates, like the others under their rule.

"Let us get straight to the point," another of the—_hags_, was what they were; they had literally cast out Shuichi's closest friend from their village, nearly killing him—croaked. He could tell them apart only by a slight difference in scent, scents each had accumulated during their various daily duties. Scent was also how he had found them to begin with. "We obviously have something you want. You, on the other hand, likely have something that we want. Let us make a deal, and then be done with it."

Happy, but only allowing himself a small, wry smile, Shuichi nodded, "Yes, of course. Thank you." Yet some of his buried disdain was barely visible in his expression.

"You are the visitor. Make your request first. We will then judge whether or not it is acceptable."

He cleared his throat softly, large, grass coloured eyes unwavering and determined. "There's a mineral that only can be found in this specific area—Hyuogan Tillite—which when ground can cure Koorime's worst ailments. All I wish is to take two specimens with me."

"_Two_ specimens?" questioned the first elder who had spoken at the mountain, "Why two? One is all that is needed."

"I wish to keep one for study. I am hoping to simulate its compounds artificially should this occur again, so as not to further intrude upon you or repeat such a taxing journey." That, of course, was not the whole truth. But if they knew that Hiei was also sick, the tribal leaders would likely not give Shuichi the medicinal stones.

"Typical man. Always wanting to _alter_ and _destroy_ nature," She cawed, in answer. He frowned slightly, but said nothing to express his displeasure. At least the lie had affirmed their ingrained assumptions, and luckily, for once, they were unable to see past them. "Very well. We can part with two Tillite stones. You must, however, supply us with a healing herb that replenishes itself." Her lips turned up harshly, "If truly are you are who you claim to be, it should be and easy task." Blind- looking blue eyes crinkled, independent of her pseudo- grin.

_Damn_, Shuichi thought_. I assumed they would want _dried_ herbs. I should have considered their non-arable climate. How will I be able to summon such an organism with so little Spirit Energy?_

He considered his options, staring into the dying fire, feeling like that fire itself, out of his element and out of time. There was no choice; he had to do it, for their sake.

He would need a spell to summon an herb of such potency. Slowly, he formed the ancient words, and a large pod abruptly appeared before the three women. Its hard, almost rock- like outer husk insulated its innards through all weather, no matter how harsh, though the seemingly impenetrable husk, if moved just right upon organic hinges revealed soft, thin shoots, soft as corn silk but more like fiddleheads in shape, that could be easily harvested for thousands of years. It was an Everwill plant.

Now his overpowering fatigue came from yet another source, besides fending off hostile demons, traveling nonstop for days and eating very little to save time, but that seemed nearly insignificant as one elder approached a heavy stone chest, fetching two Hyougan Tillite stones from its open maw, handing them to Shuichi with some difficulty (she was trying to ensure that their hands did not meet)….

Their hands touched anyway.


	4. Kuwabara's Unusual Day

3. Kuwabara's (Un)usual Day

Notes: I've read all responses to earlier chapters, and I really appreciate the feedback. This just is a fun little project, but nonetheless, it's a lot more fun when it's interactive! I'm going to try to include more dialogue here and there, because one reviewer said (and I agree) that there's a lot of description but not much happening, and though that's great in small doses, it can probably get tiresome to read after a while. So instead I will strive for more variety in style and point of view.

- Autumn Ether/ Greenfeldspar

I guess we're all busy doing something all the time—driving somewhere, eating, sleeping, writing a paper, feeding the cat, going on dates—you know, that kind of stuff. Heck, we're even busy while we're in bed (ha, ha, very funny)… _dreaming_. Bet you didn't know my dreams can predict stuff; yeah, _that's_ what I meant… Get your mind out of the gutter. So when I had a day where there was nothing to do, it was kind of… weird, I guess. Like an Armageddon was gonna drop out of the sky or something, just to stick it to me for having a day off.

Another weird thing that day was me and my sister were eating breakfast together, and usually we never do that. It was nice: the talking over fish, rice and greens, the way she looked so proud of me that I was doing good in school. And she was all happy because she had just got promoted at the salon where she works. But yeah, she didn't have work, I didn't have school, and we were eating breakfast at ten in the morning.

So we're having a good time, eating slow, all relaxed.

Then, right in the middle of breakfast, the phone rings.

"Pff, asshole," my sister says, rolling her eyes, "Probably a telefucketer. They've been calling us non-stop lately." The phone rings about twenty times, and we give each other a knowing, annoyed look, and try to continue our conversation. The conversation is about people that bug us.

I was going on about those girls at Gai Tech that follow me around like lost puppies. "Every day's the same," I grumble, "They ask, 'Oh hey, Kazuma, got anything today? Any disasters? Are you free on Saturday?' and I say, 'Well, I'm kinda busy now, running late', you know, and I tell them 'I have a girlfriend', but they still ask all the time anyway. At first it was kinda nice, the attention, but now, it's all, 'Ugh, not again', and all that."

My sister pops a chunk of fried fish in her mouth, chews and swallows. "Awww, my baby bro is all grown up and attracting annoying chicks, ha ha!" I glare at her and she cackles—_cackles_, worst sound in the world—and grins deviously. "Remember what I said about that Kuwabara family magic? That's what you get."

"Shizuru! It's not funny!"

"That's what you get," she repeats, still laughing.

So anyways, after breakfast, I check our voice mail, just for something to do. The first message is a Mrs. Takeno, for our dad, and I tune it out, waiting for the other ones. The second one is – and this had me floored—Urameshi. That guy can be such a no-good bum; he loses contact with everyone so easy, never returns my calls. But this time he was the one with the plans! I almost fell over, I swear.

The message was darn _hilarious_. I can re- create it for you and stuff if you want:

First you hear the _beep_, and some arguing, probably with Keiko, then a loud, exasperated sigh, and he's all, "Hey man, been a long time—Will you let me leave my goddamn message—And yeah, sorry about the not… Calling... But… Yeah." And there was this sort of long, _really_ awkward pause. Then he says, "Well, um, I'm feeling _sick_ today," he hacks a really obviously fake cough, "So the ramen stand's gonna be closed. Let's have coffee. You know, at the usual place, after your class—Keiko, I _know_ it's Saturday, get off me— uh, this afternoon sometime. Let me know, okay. I'm just gonna be vegging at home, watching some old Kung Fu movies. Okay, bye." _Beep. _

Immediately I called him back. It seems that Keiko's become his answering service because she picks up and politely goes, "Hello, Urameshi residence." 'Course, he probably couldn't (no, didn't) get off his sorry ass to pick up. So Keiko, she and I schmooze a bit and it's a little awkward, but not altogether unpleasant, and I end up going from one awkward conversation to another when she passes me over to Urameshi. You know the feeling you get when you've haven't talked to a friend in a long time and you sort of have too many things to say at once and you're afraid that you'll say something kinda dumb and maybe that there's something wrong and that's why they're not talking to you? Yeah, it's kinda like that.

"Hey," he says slowly, drawing out the "y." I hate when he draws out the "y" in his "hey," it makes me feel uncomfortable. He clears his throat nervously, "What's… up…man?"

The first thing that pops out of my mouth is: "Why didn't you return my calls?" He gives me this long freakin' spiel on how busy he's been, how he forgot, yadda yadda. Yeah right. Lazy bastard. He's been getting more and more distant these past few years. Maybe there really _is_ something wrong. Suddenly I get worried and ask if he's okay and everything.

"You've gotta be kidding me!" He laughs loudly into the receiver. "Of _course _I'm okay! I wouldn't be talking to you if I wasn't okay, right?" Somehow that doesn't make sense to me, but I shrug it off and agree. He is _impossible_ to argue with, no matter how wrong he is. "Look at you! You're all _concerned—_just like my girlfriend," he chuckles.

"TAKE THAT BACK!" Suddenly a little of my dormant temper flares up and it's like old times again. It takes a swift slap to the head from my sister to stop our shouting match before it really gets ugly. The phone flies out of my hand and hits the floor. Before I pick it up, I look at Shizuru sheepishly; she huffs, stalks into her room and slams the door.

After Urameshi complains a bit that the dropping phone and my voice hurt his ear (not to mention the cold shoulder he'll be getting from Keiko), we agree to meet at 2:30.

"And I _mean_ 2:30. Don't come traipsing in at 4:00," I warn.

"Traipsing, huh?" he sniffs. "You got it, Poindexter."

* * *

The café is crowded (mostly with old people) and they look at me like I've got a second head. I guess not even my new glasses help—even Shizuru says they make me look like a teacher. Yeah, I've always sort of stuck out, and yeah, some of the reasons aren't my fault. I blame Dad's genes. I guess my loud voice doesn't help much, either.

So I look all around for Urameshi but he's not there yet, so I just sit down by the window and watch all these people walking around: moms with kids, _more_ old people, students talking, you know, that kind of thing. And it's kind of interesting, but kind of boring. He's late, like he always is. Jerk's never on time. I check my watch; it's 3:00. My coffee's gone cold, but I drink it anyway. The waitress comes by for refills and I think: _Why the hell not? _At this rate I'll be hyped up on caffeine and have to pee constantly for the next few hours (sorry for the TMI, by the way).

Imagine my surprise when he waltzes in, strutting along as usual, with none other than Hiei. Yes, that's right—we're having a friendly chat in a café with _Hiei_ of all people, and since he looks just about as pissed as usual, if not less, then he probably came voluntarily. _Bizarre_.

"Is there a reason why you're gaping like a dead fish or have you lapsed into a catatonic fit?" Well, his _greetings_ seem the same at least.

Still, I have to ask incredulously: "What are you doing here?" And guess what? My voice does this thing (Shizuru calls it the "Ripple Effect") where it projects through the whole room and suddenly everything goes quiet and everyone stares at me. It takes me a minute to realize that I'm standing up in our booth and I sit back down—people are muttering now about my rudeness. I shrink in my seat, 'cuz some things, at some places, you just don't do (I learned that the hard way, believe me).

"Whoa man, calm down," Urameshi hisses, but there's an undeniable smirk stretched across his face; it kind of makes me want to punch it off.

"Sorry," I grumble reluctantly, and sit down again.

A little time goes by and the tension around us begins to dissolve. It'll never be like it was, when we were all together and fighting for our lives (interesting but scary), but there's a bit of the old dynamic creeping back, like there was when we hung out on a regular basis.

Like usual, Hiei's complaining about human food and drink. "I don't know how you humans can _drink_ this vile substance and actually _enjoy_ it," he says, staring into his cup accusingly.

"It might taste better if you actually put something _in_ it," Urameshi shrugs, "You know, like _milk_, _cream_, _sugar_…"

"Absolutely not," he refuses, "It's bad enough as it is—even without your disgusting additives—and sugar makes me feel ill. The last time I ate it I broke out in hives." He makes a face like a little kid after taking some cough syrup.

"Really? Sugar?" I'm pretty surprised at this. Never in a million years did I think Mr. Stoic Tough Guy With the Awesome Destructive Powers would have a food allergy. The thought makes me snicker, and before I know it the combination of caffeine, sugar and socializing gets to me, and bad. It doesn't help that I'm picturing Hiei covered in hives with a puffy face, all annoyed and scratching his arms. Soon I'm slapping my leg, howling with laughter, to the annoyance and bewilderment of the other two, and by now the old people are gone altogether, or rushing like hell out the door. "Oh God, you're—_sugar_! Of all the things to be—! You're like Superman, and it's your Kryponite!"

Hiei stares at me, looking like a combination of pissed off cat and pouting kid, and unfortunately, that only makes me laugh even harder—so now I'm wheezing and crying, the whole shebang.

"Don't die," Urameshi chortles, and he slaps me on the back a few times to… make sure I stay alive? I guess. Seems a little pointless to me, but okay. "Ha, at least Kuwabara won't forget and try to feed you a Kit Kat or something!" He grins tauntingly at the Shrimp beside him, elbowing him in the ribs. Yeah right, like I'd ever offer the guy a chocolate bar. Waste of chocolate.

Finally, Hiei's had enough. Guess that lady he lives with (what's her name again?) has chilled him out a whole lot; she must be a miracle worker. But the Shrimp is still the Shrimp and he can only take so much before—

"Would you—Would you fucking stop your damn cackling? It wasn't that funny! In fact, it wasn't funny AT ALL! Sometimes I think you're looking for an EXCUSE to make a RACKET! SHUT THE FUCK UP!" That outburst got the owner of the café so mad at us that we got kicked out right then and there—and banned from going there ever again. In retrospect, I don't blame the guy. In fact, I kind of feel like a douche bag when I think about it now. We still had a pretty great time, though.

"So now that we've gotten kicked out of the coffee shop—_thanks_ Kuwabara—where're we gonna go?" Urameshi shuffles beside me in his too- loose, untied shoes, hands folded carelessly behind his head, cigarette poking out from the corner of his mouth (I wish he would quit—seeing my sister smoke is bad enough).

Hiei still seems pretty angry and won't talk to either of us. After a few seconds, there's a flicker and he's gone.

Urameshi whistles (or at least tries to, and succeeds in sounding like a dying bird). "Tou_chy_."

"Man, he's gotta point though," I offer glumly. "I guess it's easy to forget that he can get offended just like the rest of us."

"That's _his_ problem."

"Yeah, but I shouldn't've gone on like that and everything."

There's a pause, like he's thinking of exactly the right response. "I would agree with you, but only for the sake of my eardrums."

"Shut up!"

* * *

After the café incident Urameshi and me go to the park and sit on the swings. It's mostly empty there, so we end up trying to swing up over the top bar in a circle to the ground, adding items that we have to guard or whatever to make it more challenging. I manage to eat ice cream at the same time as swinging up and around without spilling a drop on myself. (I did choke little bit, though. It was on a chocolate flake, too… ugh.)

The game ends when we get bored and start to crash from all that coffee. "We should do this again sometime," Urameshi grins. "See ya around."

It's almost dinner and it's starting to get dark.

On the way home, I pass a variety store and decide to get Hiei a little something as an apology. The storeowner watches me as if I'm about to shoplift. If only the guy knew about my Code. It's always "kids these days" and all that. We've all been painted with the same brush. But I earned every yen in my pocket, and pay for my stuff, fair and square: one Kit Kat bar…

And a package of sugar free mint gum.

It was after that we figured out Hiei was allergic to aspartame.


End file.
